


Three Years of Silence

by koulakoukoula



Series: Sandy's Canon World of FFVII [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Cloti - Freeform, F/M, Flashbacks, LITERALLY, Likeliterally, Post-Dirge of Cerberus (Compilation of FFVII), Smut, babysephiroth, fluffytimes, hojo'sagoodguy?, idk - Freeform, looooootsoffluff, no he literally has a daughter, prequelsequel idk, sephirothreedemed, vincentisdaddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koulakoukoula/pseuds/koulakoukoula
Summary: Everything is over now. Vincent and Jocasta live a happy life with their daughter and their beloved friends. But their past still remains and it's still haunting them.The two of them just can't forget what they had been through. Jocasta just keeps remembering how horrible those three years had been when she worked with Hojo whilst keeping an eye on little Sephiroth, trying to protect him from Hojo's experiments.It was only three years, but they still linger in her darkest memories. After all, they had beenThree Years of Silence
Relationships: Cid Highwind & Shera, Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)/Original Female Character(s), Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Vincent Valentine/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Sandy's Canon World of FFVII [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027087
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not promise that I will complete this book, and I'm not sure I'll be able to update every day like I did with 'Blood and Sympathy'. This is going to be a small sequel with inserted flashbacks that further explain the past. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Almost 30 Years Prior**

_Fear._ It was the only thing that this man ever used. _Fear._ Her hands trembled as she rushed in her quarters. She threw her hands by the small table that she had there. She sucked in a few more breaths. She had been _running._ The adrenaline rushed hard in her veins. _Humans usually experience secretion of adrenaline so that they can run from something that’s chasing them._ She wasn’t being chased, though. She was in danger nonetheless. She was in danger being there. She wasn’t even sure anymore _why_ she was there.

 _Don’t be a fool!_ She knew _why. Sephiroth._ She was there for him. She was there to keep an eye on him. To _protect_ him from Hojo’s ruthless experiments. He was nothing but a baby. Lucrecia had disappeared. She had disappeared and no one knew where she was or what she was doing. No one knew if she was even alive.

Jocasta looked at herself. Her reflection stared back at her on the cold glass of her mirror. It had only been a few months. _Just a few months_ ever since the day that she’d taken her job back in Shinra. _Second in R &D’s command. _She chuckled bitterly. A _fancy-sounding_ title, that hid so much beneath. Her hand reached for her face as she sat on the edge of her bed. Her elbows rested on her lap while she buried her face in her hands and wept against them.

She _couldn’t do this._ She couldn’t go on like _that._ She chuckled bitterly again. _Just another day at work._ She had to get used to it. Specimens screaming, and tossing, and turning against their restraints, begging for release. She shook her head. _She couldn’t move on like this._ But _no,_ there was a reason she was there. No matter how loud their screams were in her head. No matter the nightmares that wouldn’t let her sleep. She _was there for a reason. Two reasons, actually._

_Keep Sephiroth safe._

_Keep the Cetras safe._

Hojo hadn’t started experimenting on any of them. She didn’t know what she’d do when he would. She didn’t know _how_ to keep his mind away from them. And then the idea popped in her head and she _hated it_ but it was the only way.

Jocasta grabbed her key-card and rushed out of the room. She headed back to her lab. It was empty of people but full on equipment. She had _work to do._ She had to work and figure out things. _Yes._ And then give those things to the _madman_ to keep him _away_ from the Cetras and Sephiroth.

And she _did_ work. She worked and worked _and worked_. She had been working all night, all day, that Hojo would have to visit her himself. He _almost_ had a look on his face that he usually _never had. Worry._ She knew he _wasn’t worried._ This man never worried about anything but his experiments. But he did walk in on her while she kept mixing and bringing things together on the counter of her own little lab. He had his circular glasses, resting neatly on the top of his nose. His hair was tied back and his hands dipped into the pockets of his lab-coat.

He noticed her hands trembling. _Three days._ It had been three _whole days_ that she had been there. She hadn’t been sighted to have left for any food except for maybe the coffee that she had on another counter, which he assumed immediately that she had consumed. He sighed. He was never against _overworking_ , but he wasn’t praising it either. _Science needs a clear mind!_ His father would keep saying that whenever he would find him staying awake till 5 am, studying all those huge books on biochemistry. Even _overworking_ wasn’t enough for his _beloved father_.

 _He’s history._ He reminded himself. He had to _keep reminding himself_ that _that_ was a long-gone past that he had been trying to forget. He could tell she too was trying to _forget._ Nobody worked so hard without _needing_ to work _so hard._

Hojo approached her and she flinched back as if she was afraid. _He hated it._ Why was everybody so afraid of him? Why was everybody always _moving backwards_ whenever _he’d move forwards?_ He frowned.

“W- What do you want, Hojo?” Jocasta asked shakily. It was clear that the caffeine was the only thing that kept her standing.

He hummed as he pointed at the tools that she had spread on the counter “Growing JENOVA’s translated genome into bacteria and testing the results?”

“Y- Yes-” her fingers were struggling to put the cover-slipper onto the slide.

He made another step forward, and even though she flinched back again, he caught her hands and stopped the _trembling._ Her fingers were _freezing._ He might’ve worried she had hypothermia at some point. He took the slide and the cover-slippers. His fingers, way steadier as he settled the two thin glasses together trapping the sample in between. She tried to take them back, but he moved them out of the way.

“I’ll take it from here, Doctor,” Hojo said as he placed the slide beneath the microscope’s lenses “Eat something…” he hummed. _What’s richer in nutrients and energy?_ “…an omelet would do you good,” he looked down at the sample through the lenses of the microscope.

“But-”

“Science needs a clear mind. Even _your_ mind cannot work without rest,”

Was he praising her? Was he _worried? No._ He was only worried that _losing her_ he’d lose the valuable things that she could discover for him. Jocasta pursed her lips as she watched the man staring down through the lenses of the microscope. He was unmoving. His fingers gently rolled the sample closer to the lenses.

She nodded shakily “Y- Yes, Professor,” she hurried towards the door, but his voice stopped her.

A sneer came from him “Good work, Doctor…” he had a smile on his lips as he stared at the sample “…good work,” 


	2. A Beautiful Beginning of a Beautiful Life

**Present Day**

_Crying._ Jocasta shut her eyes. _Not again._ A groan came from Vincent beside her. She felt him shifting on the bed to wake up. But _no,_ she looked at the clock. It was 3 am and he had to wake up for work in three hours. She placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to lie back down on the bed. She leaned in and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“It’s alright, I got it-” he tried to say, but her lips muffled him as she left a peck on his. Her hand found his face as she propped herself on her elbow.

“You got work in a few hours. You better go back to sleep,” Jocasta said as she pushed off the sheets and got up.

It wasn’t so difficult being a parent. But the first few days _were going to be difficult -indeed._ Shera had told them so, and she was right. Every two hours Laelynn was hungry. _What a hungry baby._ Jocasta chuckled to herself as she made her way to the room beside theirs and opened the lights. She was expecting to be fat after eating like a pig for all these months, but her body maintained her physique. _Thank goodness,_ it did, because, otherwise, she’d have to look for new clothes. Her grey tank top and her black shorts still suited her, and she was glad about that. Though, _the bras weren’t her size anymore._ At least, they wouldn’t be for the next few months.

She picked up her baby, that kept crying and shrieking. Jocasta brought her closer and kissed her little cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her little lips, and Laelynn immediately stopped crying. She looked up at her mom and gave her a smile, almost a mischievous one. Jocasta furrowed her eyebrows.

“You just want attention, don’t you?”

Laelynn started laughing as if she hadn’t been crying _like a dying Chocobo_ a few seconds ago. But her laughter was so sweet and cute, it made Jocasta’s heart melt as she brought her closer, and Laelynn lied her little head on her shoulder, nuzzling in her cleavage. She knew what that meant. Jocasta chuckled as she sat back down on the armchair that she had nearby Laelynn’s bed to feed her.

There was something familiar about the way that Laelynn stared up at her while swallowing. She knew what it reminded her of. She had fed a baby before, _so long, long ago._ It almost felt like an entire _century_ had passed. So many things had occurred in between.

_His little cat-green eyes stared up at her while he drew sips from the bottle of milk that she was holding up for him. No one was going to feed him if she hadn’t asked for permission to do it herself. Sephiroth had a few silver hair on his head. He was only a few months old baby. The door of his room had the writing ‘Subject 4976’. Jocasta felt disgusted to read it every time that she’d enter the room that they had put him in. He was a baby. A baby. Why treat it like a subject like this? It made her heart ache, but his little eyes stared up at her, and they were green and beautiful and bright._

_She felt responsible for him. She felt like she had to protect him at any cost. He was her sister’s and Vincent’s son. She was the only one he had left. Vincent was dead, Lucrecia was gone. She was the only one standing between him and Hojo’s experiments. She knew she had sacrificed her own sanity, her own conscience to be there with him, but when he’d look up at her like that while she’d feed him… it just all felt like it was worth it. Sephiroth was worth all those troubles. All those panic attacks, and those mental breakdowns that she’d get every time that she had to aid Hojo in his insane experiments. All these times that she’d crush onto a wall and want nothing but quit and run away._

_She had leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead when he finished eating. She had pulled the bottle away and brough him into her hug. She felt the weight of his little head, resting against her shoulder while she gently patted on his little back. Then the announcement came from the speakers, making her flinch._

_“Dr. Ernchester! Report to lab 64 immediately!”_

_Sephiroth started crying from the sudden, loud sound that came from the speakers that every single room had. “No, no, no, no, no…” she brought him up to look at him. She started pressing kisses on his little face, easing the crying for just a little. He nuzzled his face back in her neck. His little fingers clutched so tightly on her shirt. She breathed shakily against his little hair._

_She had to go. She had to let him back down on his little bed and she had to leave. How could she bring herself to do that? How could she bring herself to listen to his crying while she’d leave?_

_But she had no choice. She placed Sephiroth gently back down on the soft little bed. But his little fingers were so tight, pulling on her shirt, trying to keep her there, desperately. And his crying intensified, making her heart break. She took his little hands off of her shirt with her own tears overflowing her eyelashes._

_“I’ll be right back… I’ll be right back, I promise,” She knew he couldn’t understand her._

_He was too little to understand her. All he wanted was to be in the loving embrace of somebody’s arms. That’s what every baby has the right to have. But she had to leave because she knew the consequences of disobedience to Hojo’s orders. She gave Sephiroth’s forehead one last kiss before she forced herself towards the door. A tear slipped down her cheek as the little baby cried, watching her leave. She gritted her teeth and walked out of the room, muffling his crying behind the closed door. Her hand reached for her cheek, wiping that tear that rolled warm down her skin. She wiped her eyes and hurried right away with her heart shattered to pieces._

Jocasta pressed a kiss on top of Laelynn’s head. “You won’t have to suffer through any of that,” she had to remind herself that _it was over_.

She just kept reminding herself even though she still had nightmares about everything that had happened. Vincent too had nightmares. She would listen to him tossing and turning at times and she would wake him and have him clutching on her. No matter how far behind, their past was still there and it was still haunting them. They had no demons into their bodies to keep reminding them, but it all had been so traumatizing _for so long_. She looked down at her little daughter. She had slept. Jocasta smiled as she placed her back down on her little bed, pecking a small kiss on her little lips.

She settled her shirt back in position before she walked back into their room. Vincent’s soft snoring found her ears as she lied back down on their bed, slipping beneath the bedsheets. She looked back at the clock that they had hanging from the wall. It was 4 am. She still had two hours before waking up again to make Vincent some breakfast before work. She shifted closer to him and he sensed her. His hands slipped around her body immediately, bringing her close.

She nuzzled her face on his chest, above his shirt. She felt him pressing a kiss in her hair, on top of her head, and his hand slipped away from her waist and found her face. He traced her _wet_ cheeks and he lost his sleep right away. _Crying?_ He guided her face up and he pulled back to look down at her.

“Have you been crying?” He asked worriedly.

“Crying?” She asked confusedly. Her hand reached for her cheek and she chuckled. She hadn’t even noticed “I guess,”

His lips found her cheeks, her eyelashes, her nose making her giggle “May I ask why?” his thumb stroked her cheek. His crimson-brown eyes stared down at her in utter worry.

She shook her head “I just thought about-”

“Back then?” he asked. It was a frequent occasion. He wasn’t surprised. He knew caring for Laelynn was reminding her of the days when she cared for Sephiroth, but things back then were much _scarier._ He kept blaming himself for that. He blamed himself because he _wasn’t there to help them._

She just chuckled bitterly and buried her face back in his neck. His hands tightened around her as she breathed against his neck and shut her eyes. She tried so hard to keep those memories at bay, but _how can anybody forget these?_ He too had tried. But the days of being tied down and experimented on weren’t ones that he could forget. He just brought her closer and sighed against her hair.

“We just need some more time,” He said against her hair and she hummed affirmatively. Her hands slipped around his torso. She could feel the texture of his scars even beneath that shirt that he wore.

“Yeah,” she pressed a kiss on his neck and her hands tightened around him.

 _It’s all over now._ She reminded herself. _Yeah. It’s all over._ She was in her husband’s arms. They had their little baby. _A blessing_. They had _amazing_ friends. Sephiroth was _alright_. Shera was pregnant again and it brought Jocasta a chuckle even thinking about it. Tifa and Cloud had moved to Corel, to live with Barret, Marlene, and Denzel. Things were going _to be okay now._

⊱═⊰❉⊱✿⊰❉⊱═⊰

She hated to watch him _leave_ even though this time she knew that he wasn’t going somewhere that would _get himself killed._ He was only going _to work_ back in the WRO and she couldn’t wait for the day that she’d go with him. They had agreed that she stay and care for Laelynn for as long as needed. _Besides,_ Hojo was right about _one thing._ Hester was smarter than the _two of them put together._ Jocasta couldn’t think of anybody more capable of WRO’s Head of R&D.

She tucked the jacket around her shoulders, shielding them from the cold morning breeze as she watched Vincent entering his car and switching on the engine. He waved at her while he drove away. She smiled and waved back, before she sucked in a deep breath, filling her nostrils with the scent of the trees, the ammonia that lingered on the soil, and the flowers and greenery that danced with the cold, soft breeze. Having a house nearby the forests of Mideel, was certainly a pretty good idea.

For once, she _loved_ her life. She _loved_ to wake up a thousand times a night to care for their little daughter. She loved to wake up every day and make breakfast for Vincent before he’d leave for work. Life just _couldn’t get any better._

Jocasta rushed back in their house, locking the door behind, and she checked on Laelynn once more. She was still sleeping peacefully. She picked her up nevertheless and lied her gently back down on hers and Vincent’s bed. She lied down beside her and brought the sheets over their bodies, after making sure she set the pillows over the edge of the bed, making sure that Laelynn wouldn’t roll and fall off the bed.

She closed her eyes after making sure that Laelynn wasn’t far from reach and Jocasta sighed. She buried her hand beneath her pillow, and allowed herself to go back to sleep. It was still 6 am and the chilly breeze that came from the window, was enough to make her want to sleep deeper beneath the bedsheets.

_“Excellent work, my dear! Imagine what will happen if we test that on subject #6890,”_

_And then came the laugh. Jocasta’s fingers tightened around the wrist of her other arm. It hurt knowing that things that she discovered, he was going to use them to inflict more and more pain. But it was the only way. The only way to keep Sephiroth safe. The only way to give Gast and Ifalna time enough time to flee, to disappear. She gulped slightly and bent her head over in obedience. She was so weak back then. So weak, the only way to defend herself or somebody, was her mind._

_Hojo turned and looked at her and approached her. They were in his lab in floor 65 of the Shinra Tower. Numerous scientists were around, completing tasks, and fulfilling orders. He must’ve loved watching her scared, and suppressed, and broken. He loved watching those things on his subjects. Test subjects and non._

_But he didn’t smirk like she expected him to. He frowned. His hands crossed against his chest as he turned and looked at her for a short moment. She was pale and trembling, yet again, he knew she was scared, and he -honestly- never asked why._

_“What is it, my dear? Aren’t you excited about our experiments?” He chuckled “When I saw you and Dr. Crescent experimenting on that unfortunate man, I knew that you wouldn’t have any trouble with experimenting on humans,”_

_She sucked in a deep breath. She was trying so hard to look anywhere but him “Frankly, Professor, I do not feel comfortable with this,”_

_“Why not?” he asked, genuinely confused. There was always something so interesting about the way they screamed. Could she not feel the thrill of experimentation? Progress? Could she not feel these? What kind of scientist is she?_

_“I- It’s just-”_

_“I understand that you are too young to see the meaning in this. Progress, Doctor. Infinite progress…” he approached her “…we satisfy Shinra’s material greed while pursuing progress. How do you think the first vaccines came out? Sacrifices. Have they not made humanity’s life easier?”_

_She sighed “They have,”_

_“Good…” he chuckled and he turned around at the cage that contained his next specimen “…and for now, I need you to unleash #3487 to this poor little creature,”_

_Jocasta’s eyes widened. Her hands trembled as she trapped them behind her back. Her fingers clenched into fists trying to keep her hands steady. No. **Not again.** She hated it every time she’d have to do something that she was ordered to. She hated unleashing pain to unfortunate creatures that were given to Hojo. She’d never speak up. She would never speak against whatever he’d ask of her. She had to do it whatever it was. It was her job, after all. _

_But when he ordered her to bring Sephiroth to him and start the experiments, it was the only time that she had spoken up. He was only a two-year-old little boy. How in the world was she supposed to experiment on him? She knew that Hojo wasn’t his father, but she felt like his mother. She had raised him._

_“Please! Please, Hojo, do not start experimenting on him. He’s only two years old, you’re not going to find anything, whatever you try-”_

_“Hush!” Hojo snapped as he turned around and tossed the pen that he had in his hand, back on the pocket of his lab-coat. They were in another lab, one of the many, but it was just the two of them. “I know my specimens. I know when they’re ready and when they’re not,”_

_Her lip quivered “B- But… h- he’s not ready…” she tried to find reasons to change Hojo’s mind, but she could think of nothing but the fact of how much immoral this whole thing was. Of course, Hojo never really cared for morality. Her hand reached for the counter as she bit her lip. She could tell he was waiting. He waiting for her to convince him. How in the world was she supposed to do that? “…h- he-”_

_“I understand you’ve bonded with the boy, but he’s neither mine nor your son, so, in this case-”_

_“Please!” She choked out and she didn’t want to think of the consequences of speaking like that against him. She desperately needed to keep that boy safe, because he was her son. Not by blood, but it felt so much like it. She would do anything to protect him. Anything. Even begging wasn’t something that Dr. Jocasta Ernchester would ever do. She had tried so hard to build a name for herself so that she never had to beg for anything. But that moment was one that she would never forget. It was the first time she ever begged. “Please, I beg of you, don’t do it,” she gritted her teeth, knowing that he wasn’t going to listen to her “Not yet, at least, let him grow, let him grow a little!”_

_She heard a sigh coming from him and she finally lifted her gaze up at him. He wasn’t looking at her. He had a hand by his chin, skeptically, before he reached for his pocket and grabbed his phone. He dialed a number and turned his back on her._

_“Abort today’s experiment. Schedule it for the next year, same hour, same day,” he ordered. He flipped his phone closed and tossed it back in his pocket._

_Why in the world would he do that? It was a question that she made mentally and never received an answer. It was so unlike him to abort an experiment and reschedule it for another time. But she was glad that he did. She let out a breath that she hadn’t even noticed she’d been holding, anticipating that moment. Her muscles relaxed immediately and her head hung loosely from her shoulders. She rubbed her eyes tiredly._

_“Thank you, Hojo…” she couldn’t believe she had just said that. She couldn’t believe she meant it “…thank you so much,” but for now her baby was safe. He would be safe for an entire year. Had Hojo really just given those orders? It could very well be just her imagination playing things on her. But -no- he turned around and crossed his hands against his chest. He sighed._

_“Congrats, Dr. Ernchester, now, I’ve got nothing to work on,” He said, sarcastically._

_“Uh… that’s not true…” she tried to think as she turned back at the counter. She looked at the plates that stored JENOVA cells “…we could… uh- there some sequences in JENOVA’s genome that we haven’t tested in hosts yet. We could try them now and see how it goes,”_

_He hummed as he approached her over the counter and picked up the plate with the cells, carefully. He stared curiously down at it “Indeed. Let’s get to work, then,”_

_Working with Hojo in a lab wasn’t as awful as one would think. His ingenuity was something that got her mind off the fear and desperation. They discovered so many things on JENOVA’s genome that day. So many things, that he had admitted he wouldn’t have discovered on his own and she too had admitted that she wouldn’t be able to have figured out those things without him. There were times that he’d admit such things and make her wonder if she had taken things wrong. Maybe he wasn’t bad after all. There was something about him that should explain why he was like this. But sure, there’s a very, very thin line that borders insanity and genius._

Jocasta’s attention was snapped when the crying reached her ears again. She found she had been cooking. _Thank goodness,_ she could do many things at once. Thinking of the past that haunted her, while making beef on the stove with red sauce, while also keeping an eye on Laelynn who was sleeping peacefully on her wheelchair. That until she started crying. Jocasta let out a sigh and she let go of the spoon, and she picked her up right away. The moment Jocasta picked her up, Laelynn stopped crying.

“You, attention-seeking, gorgeous, little beasty,”

Laelynn giggled cutely, and when the door opened and Vincent walked in. Laelynn’s little hands reached for her dad right away as if Jocasta wasn’t even there. Vincent had a wide smile on his lips as he entered the kitchen and Jocasta handed him Laelynn. His hands, finally accustomed to holding a baby, settled their little daughter on his chest.

“How are my two girls doing?” He asked looking up at the flickering crimson eyes of their baby’s as she giggled and nuzzled her face in his neck, just like Jocasta did every night they’d go to sleep.

Jocasta laughed as his hand reached for her waist while the other held Laelynn on his chest. His lips found hers, making her forget whatever answer she was preparing for that question. They sighed in the brief kiss. Her hands found his face, cupping his cheek as they pulled back. So much _happiness,_ it was almost unbelievable.

“We’re cooking,” Jocasta chuckled as she too pressed her head on his shoulder and his one hand tightened around her waist while the other held Laelynn. She was sucking on her little thumb while pressing her forehead in Vincent’s neck. Vincent pressed a kiss on her little forehead as he held his two girls who had clutched onto him.

“What’s for lunch?”

“Beef,”

He hummed “Delicious,” 


	3. Rememberances

She remembered the _battle-cries_. She remembered the bodies that laid all around. She remembered _Omega_ , _ascending_. She remembered how tight Vincent’s hands were around her waist as the two of them wept against each other’s shoulders. She remembered _that day_. It was the day that she had accepted _sweet death_ coming from the hands of her _beloved_. The day that _Vincent had to kill her_ because _it was the only way._ She remembered the weight of his forehead against hers. The numerous tears that had slipped down his cheeks. His kiss, needy and desperate and _frightened_. His body, shaking. And then came the stab.

Her dagger’s blade digging deep into her belly while they both pushed it in and brought her a step closer to sweet _death._ She knew she shouldn’t be thinking of _these_. She knew it was all over _now._ She knew they finally had _peace._ Thinking about the past was getting her nowhere. But it was still so hard to let go of it.

Her fingers were tight around Vincent’s shirt while the two of them lied down -once again- to go to sleep and she knew that she’d _never_ stop clutching on him like that. The fears were still there. Fears of _something_ happening. Something that would inevitably end what they _now_ had. This was the _cycle._ This was the _inevitable order_ of the events in their lives. They would get their peace and then something would inevitably happen and it would end it all and they’d have to start from the beginning -again, and again. A never-ending cycle. Maybe that’s why they clutched onto each other. Because something _disastrous_ had yet to come but it _could_ come at any moment.

Her cheek pressed against his chest, listening to his heart, beating as silence and darkness fell in their bedroom. His hand was in her hair, caressing softly, soothingly. Her hand was beneath his shirt, tracing the scars that she recognized. He wasn’t flinching back anymore. She would touch and kiss and trace his scars and he would no longer have his breath hitching and his body tensing. He had gotten used to her touch, and she too had gotten used to his. _They had come a long, long way._

Vincent’s lips found her forehead, pressing a soft kiss against it. She sighed. “Stop thinking,” he said as if he could _hear_ her own thoughts. She propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him with a smile.

He knew her _too well._ He knew that look. Her glistering, hazel eyes. Her lips, bitten and swollen by herself. An act of anxiousness that he had tried to stop her from repeating. If it was somebody else, she’d be _frightened_ to have _anybody else_ knowing her so well _,_ but, _no,_ she trusted Vincent with her life. They had been through _so much-_ it would be _stupid_ not to. Her hand found his cheek, brushing it with the back of her fingers.

He chuckled. His crimson eyes flickered in the dark and found hers “I should stop thinking too,”

She knew the memories were bothering him too. She smiled and left a small peck on his lips “Like you said, we need more time,”

He nodded and returned the smile. His hand found her cheek. His thumb brushed warm against it and his fingers spread down her neck. His eyes were a warm crimson that flickered in the darkness of their room. She loved those eyes. She loved their unique colour that would usually _frighten_ anybody else. But _not her._ She was never afraid even back then when he transformed into the Galian Beast and chased her down into the forests of Gongaga. It was a form that he couldn’t control back then. He had hurt her in these beastly forms but she was never afraid of it even back then.

She always knew that beneath the furry beast, there was always a gentle man. She never thought anybody was capable of that tenderness that Vincent always possessed. It always hurt so much knowing that _back then_ he thought of himself of nothing more than _a monster._

This was all over _now._ It was _all over_ and she had to keep reminding herself and she knew that he too had to keep reminding himself. They were both still frightened and it was obvious and sometimes they’d sit down and talk about it. They’d _open_ their hearts and speak about things that they would never dare to recall. Like the days that she had spent working under Hojo’s command, and the days that he had spent tied down and experimented on, or the days that he had spent trapped in a coffin, trying to _die_ and not being able to.

She shook her head. _These are all gone._ She pressed her forehead against his and both his hands found her face. His touch, tender and warm. He guided her close till their lips were touching. He kissed her softly. His lips, warm and soothing. They gracefully trapped hers between them and they both sighed when their tongues met. Her hand found his face while his, spread down on her body. His hands tightened around her waist as he brought gently her on top of him.

Their chests were brought together and she could practically feel his heart beating against hers while they kissed. His hands snuck beneath her shirt and traced her scars. She too had stopped hissing and wincing whenever he’d touch the flawed skin of her back, her waist, her stomach, her chest, her neck.

They pulled back to catch their breath. She felt him breathing against her wet lips while his thumb stroked her cheek and his other hand spread warm over her skin on the small of her back. She buried her face in his neck and breathed him in. Her breath brushed warm against his skin and he pressed a kiss on her temple. She let out a small hum and closed her eyes. Her lips pressed a kiss on his neck in return. Both his hands pulled the sheets further up their bodies, shielding her exposed shoulder, before the two of them closed their eyes and waited for sleep.

His breathing fell in a soft rhythm right away. He was tired but _content_ like he’d never been. Her fingers still clutched on his shoulders and his own fingers were still tight on her shirt. He’d hold her tight like that ever since the first time they’d slept together. Back then he was afraid that _she’d run away, scared of him,_ but _now_ he held her thus because he was afraid that _they’d take her from him._ It had happened so many times before, he couldn’t let down his guard. He never really dared to do that. He had guns fitted everywhere around the house, _just in case._

She too found herself clutching on him. She always did and she was never really sure _why._ Maybe she _needed him so much_ she couldn’t even conceive it. She just nuzzled her nose further into his neck and shut her eyes closed. She wasn’t one to need somebody _so much._ But she remembered the times when she was alone and how _bad_ things were back then comparing to _now._

_“Tired already?”_

_How was she supposed to explain to him that she hadn’t slept in days? Working for his senseless experiments and sorting out the equipment and writing down the results of every single step. Her legs were barely holding her up. Her hands, always dipped in the pockets of her lab-coat trying to hide and ease the shaking._

_“No, Professor,”_

_“Good, because I’ve got a new project for you,” Hojo approached her, handing her the black leather folder with the label and his handwriting on top ‘Project G’. “I understand you won’t be able to work on Project S. Dr. Hollander’s having trouble with Project G and I can’t think of anybody more capable,”_

_“So…” she gritted her teeth and looked up at the man “…you’re starting the experiments on… on Sephiroth?” she felt a lump in her throat and tears preparing themselves on top of her eyelids “…b- but y- you said you’d give him a year! Y- You said-”_

_“I don’t have a year to waste, dear. I need my results now. You don’t want to go down as the scientist who stood in the way of progress because of ridiculous reasons such as emotions, do you, Doctor?” Hojo turned and faced her. He laughed “Besides, this job I have for you… it’s important! I want you to foresee Hollander’s work… and make sure it fails,”_

_“Fails?”_

_“Correct,”_

_“May I ask why?”_

_“There’s a lot of competition for the current position that I am in. Everyone wants to be Head of R &D, isn’t that right, Doctor?” he approached her and crossed his hands against his chest “You’ll help me if you want me to go easy on the boy, won’t you?”_

_She sighed. She had no choice. She closed the folder and looked up at him “Believe it or not, I too agree that you’re more worthy of this position than Hollander is,”_

_“This man is a moron nonetheless, it’s not a difficult task to have him self-destruct,”_

_“Indeed,” she couldn’t help but agree. Hollander had done the exact same thing that Hojo had done. He had turned his wife -Gillian- and his child into an experiment, but made a different approach than the one of Hojo’s._

_He smiled but she couldn’t tell what kind of smile it was. “You know, Dr. Ernchester…” he made another step closer and she made a step back “…the only scientist that I’d ever let steal my position, would be you but…” he made another step closer and she made another step back, but her hips pressed against the counter of the lab. His hands found the counter, trapping her there. He leaned close and her hands reached for his chest in an effort to pull him away should he try anything dangerous. He didn’t kiss her like she dreaded, instead his breath found her ear while he spoke “…you’re mine, Dr. Ernchester, and whatever’s yours, it’s mine too,”_

_He noticed her body trembling and her breath hitching halfway her throat. He pulled back and took her hands in his, pulling them away from his chest. Why was she always so afraid? He -honestly- never found a valid reason. For all he knew, whatever he did, made sense in his mind no matter how many times he’d rethink it. He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide in alarm and she was barely even breathing. Her hands, trembling and cold in his and he pulled back immediately. He couldn’t tell why, but he hated watching her being so much afraid of him. Why would anybody be afraid of him? He never did anything wrong. He only did his job._

_He let go of her hands and fended away “No need to tremble, my dear. I’d never hurt you…” he turned around to leave but he stopped walking away. He chuckled and gave her a look “…not without your consent, at least,”_

And it was true. He hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t touched her. Hojo never let anybody touch him _at all_. He never wanted anybody to mess with his things. Endless folders and papers and pens of all kinds placed neatly and organised on his lab counter. He’d go _insane_ if anybody even touched his things, and apparently, _she was one of them._ Fellow scientists wouldn’t even _dare_ lay an eye on her when Hojo was around. He had something to do with it, so it seemed.

And when he started experimenting on her, he had warned her. He had warned her that _should she try_ to take his _specimen_ away, it would result to this. And she did try. She did try to take Sephiroth out of that _cursed_ place and he caught her and made her his _new_ test subject. He had taken her back to the Shinra Manor. Abandoned by all other scientists, but still _home_ to his research on Omega and Chaos. He was a complicated man. _Complicated indeed._

Jocasta woke up to the sound of crying again, and she instantly knew that she had to get up and check on Laelynn. But before she had the chance to get off bed, Vincent was already on his feet and into their baby’s room. The crying stopped right away and Vincent returned back with Laelynn on his chest and his hands around her, holding her gently. She let out a cute giggle as he leaned and pressed a kiss on her nose and he laughed with her.

Jocasta felt her lips quirking up into a wide smile. Laelynn always seemed to have a preference when it came to the two of them. She shrugged. _All daughters love their dad the most,_ so it seemed _._ He lied her down between them and Jocasta’s hands reached for her little clothes, settling them neatly and placing a kiss on her forehead. Vincent lied beside her and the three of them slept together peacefully. Their smiles, frozen on their lips as they closed their eyes and fell into a soft rhythmic breathing. 


	4. Distraction

The weekends were the best days. They were the best, because Vincent would stay home, and the day would start with lots of sleep. _Well,_ provided Laelynn didn’t wake them up with crying. But this time she hadn’t and maybe that was because she was sleeping with them. She had climbed on Vincent’s chest. Her little head nuzzled in his neck and her little fingers were tight around his dark red shirt.

Jocasta turned on the side just to see those two sleeping peacefully with their baby on top of him. His hair was a mess against the pillows. He had been resting one hand on top of Laelynn’s back, instinctively keeping her safely against him while she pressed her cheek just on top of his neck. She too had a few pitch-black hair that had started to grow. Jocasta found her lips quirking up in a smile. They looked so _cute_ the two of them like that.

She slipped one hand beneath her pillow and she rested her cheek on top just staring at the two. She could never get enough of that image no matter how many times it had happened. She was staring at the two people that she loved the most. Her beloved husband, and their lovely, little girl.

She couldn’t keep herself from shifting closer. Her hand reached around his belly while she pressed her cheek on his shoulder. His hand slipped around her, finding her own shoulder, and pushing the bedsheets further up to shield her exposed skin from the morning breeze that entered from the window.

Vincent let out a hum. She pressed her chin on his shoulder and she looked up at him as he opened his eyes and revealed those magnificent crimson pupils. His pale lips quirked up in a smile and she returned it right away.

“Good morning, _daddy_ Vince,” she raised an eyebrow and she could tell he was about to cringe and let out a laugh and _probably_ ask her to never call him that again, even though he knew she would anyway. But he didn’t laugh because the movement would awake Laelynn and he just _almost_ cringed.

“Don’t call me that,”

Her hand found her mouth to hold back a laugh that would’ve been loud enough to wake their little girl. Jocasta sucked in a breath to ease the need to laugh, and she pulled her hand away grinning.

“But you _are_ a dad,”

“Which surely is gonna be the first word that she’ll say,” Vincent said with a mischievous smile. _His_ turn to tease her.

 _Oh, no you didn’t!_ “No way, _mom_ is gonna be her first word,”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course! I’m the one she spends more time with!”

“But I’m the one she’s clutching onto right now,”

Jocasta frowned but it was true. “Fair point,” she giggled before she buried her face back on his shoulder and sighed “But she’s not the _only_ one clutching onto you right now either,”

He chuckled “Jealous?”

“Always…” she grinned against his shoulder “… _daddy Vince,”_

“…”

“Don’t call me that,”

⊱═⊰❉⊱✿⊰❉⊱═⊰

Jocasta settled the lamb on the oven pan, and she turned and looked at Vincent while he chopped the vegetables. She could tell he had a hard time handling the knife and cutting the potatoes in smaller bits. His primary weapon had always been guns, and she doubted he remembered any basic Turk training on how to handle daggers.

But still, he was cute in his dark red t-shirt and his black sweatpants. His black hair was picked back with a few locks falling on that focused expression on his face. He was wearing his glasses so that he could see clearly. She would wear glasses too, but she reserved them for reading. It seemed that after their demons left, their bodies were brought back to normal.

She was glad. They could use a little bit of _normality._ Laelynn was sleeping peacefully on her bed in her room, and the two of them agreed to cook together. He’d always help her in the weekends or the days that he happened to be there. But the moment she turned her attention elsewhere, she heard a wince and a small, muffled curse. She immediately turned her attention back at him and she noticed a drop of blood spilling from his finger on the knife.

Her eyes widened and she hurried towards him. She knew he had gone through so much _worse_ injuries than just a knife cut, and she had dealt with so much harder cases than just _a knife cut,_ but she was still worried and instantly regretted letting him help her cook in the first place. She took his hand and checked the bleeding finger. The cut wasn’t large at all, and if treated, it’d be fine in a few days. But still he chuckled at the worried expression on her face.

“It’s alright-” he tried to say, but he was cut off when she dipped his finger into her mouth and sucked on the blood till it was dry and stopped bleeding.

He knew he should be focusing on the slight stinging pain but instead all he could sense was her slick tongue. Her tender lips drawing on his finger and his breath almost hitched halfway his throat. She pulled his finger out of her mouth with a soft pop and both her hands found his as she took a look on the cut again.

“Let’s get this patched up,” she said and she didn’t seem to have noticed how much _sucking on his finger out of nowhere_ had bothered him. 

He cleared his throat and tried his best to snap out of it. But when he realized he had her against the kitchen counter, he knew he _couldn’t_ snap out of it. They hadn’t done anything _intimate_ ever since Laelynn came around, and not much before that either.

She tried to move but stopped when she felt his hands slithering around her. He took off his glasses placing them back down on the brown wooden surface of the counter. His body pressed hers against the counter and their eyes met. His hand found her face. His fingers spread warm on her cheek. His thumb found her lips and parted them, pushing back in. Their eyes remained locked when she welcomed his thumb with her tongue. Her lips closed tenderly around it. He let out a hum as he looked down at her and his breath brushed warm against her nose.

His lips found her cheek. He laid soft kisses there, reaching her cheekbone. He felt her sighing against the thumb that he still had dipped in her mouth. She threw her head back when he reached her neck and he pulled his thumb out. His hands slipped around her. Her hands found his hair, tangling her fingers into them while she felt his tongue coming in contact with her skin. Her eyes closed and she hummed when he trapped her skin between his teeth letting down a gentle bite. Her hands found the opening of his shirt around his neck. Her fingers snuck beneath right away, clenching around the scarred muscles of his back and his shoulders.

His fingers clenched around every bit of clothing that she wore, pulling on it as if he’d been trying to take it off. He wanted to see her body. He wanted to have her naked and exposed just like all those times before, and he’d never get enough of that. He’d nearly forgotten the stinging pain on the shallow cut on his finger that had probably stopped bleeding and -honestly- he didn’t really care. He loved every little sound that she made while he bit and suckled and licked on the sensitive, scarred flesh of her neck. His hand snuck beneath her shirt. His fingers traced her belly. His palm pressed flat on the small of her back and brought her closer.

She hummed when she felt her body against his, and the counter, digging in her hips. Her eyes closed and her head rolled back as she smiled. Her fingers found his hair, tangling in the pitch-black strands while he kissed, and licked and bit gently on her neck. His hands tightened around her, and with little effort, he picked her up and settled her on the counter. Her legs parted around his waist as he moved close and forced her body pressing against his. Their chests came together and she could feel his heart beating loudly on top of hers.

His lips found hers again and his tongue touched hers in a blissful swirl that had her humming. Her hands slipped around his shoulders and made their way to his neck. Her thumb found his cheek. That sleeveless tank top that she wore seemed too thin, and her shorts were _short_ enough to expose most of her thighs where his hands lingered. His fingers clutched on her shirt as he broke the kiss and his eyes met hers. He breathed against her wet lips. Both breathed hard. He felt her hands beneath his shirt tracing on his scars. A touch that he’d finally become accustomed to.

“Take off your shirt,”

She bit her tongue as she drew her hands away from beneath his shirt and reached for hers. She pulled off that tank top revealing her breasts in the tight restraints of her bra, along with the creamy, scarred skin on her chest, her shoulders, her stomach. Her skin too was pale. Almost as pale as his. She could almost feel his gaze tracing her. He leaned in and buried his face in her neck right away. His tongue found her skin. Wet and slick and warm, dragging a wet line towards her chest and tracing each one of the scars that lingered there. He kissed every single one of them _again,_ while his fingers brushed warmly over the small of her back, and then up over the back of her shoulders, keeping her close. Her fingers found his hair and tangled into the dark messy locks.

He pushed back to pull his own shirt off and before he had the chance to do anything, her mouth was on his own chest. Her fingers found the trunk of his body. Her lips gently lingered over his scars, pressing kisses onto them and touching him with a kind of grace that only she ever possessed for that _cursed_ body of his. He remembered how _difficult_ it had been, revealing himself to her for the first time back then in the Highwind. It almost felt like _centuries_ had passed ever since that day. He remembered feeling so ashamed and then _so surprised_ by her reaction.

She had kissed those ugly marks _back then_ just like she was doing _now._ Her lips were warm and soft. Her touch was gentle. Nobody had ever touched him thus before and he knew nobody ever would. She was so important. So _precious._ He remembered all those times that he had lost her and it terrified him that something similar could happen again, because he’d learned _one thing_ from those past few years. _Nothing_ was ever _really_ over. There’s always some _evil_ lurking in the dark, seeking the _destruction_ of the peace that they _now_ had.

But he had finally gotten used to her touch. She would look at his _naked_ body and she _wouldn’t_ run away, and he had stopped _fearing_ that she would because he loved her and she loved him. She was the mother of his child. She was the mother of _both_ his children. His hand found her hair while she let down those tiny, soft kisses and licks on his chest. She hummed and he sighed. _So precious._ He trapped her chin between his thumb and his index finger before he guided her face back up at him and their eyes met once more. His thumb brushed over her lower lip and his nose brushed against hers as she looked up at him, dazed and mesmerized.

There was something _so perfect_ about the way that she always looked at him. There was that warm feeling on his chest that he parted his lips to speak out even though he knew that those _three words_ were never really enough to _describe_ what he felt. _How much_ he felt.

“Vincent-”

“I love you,”

She chuckled. No matter how many times they’d just keep saying that, it was never nearly _enough._ Her hand found his cheek and she brought their foreheads together “I love you too, Vince,” Jocasta leaned in, ghosting her lips against his until he leaned forward to kiss her and she pulled back with an amused laugh. He tried to kiss her again but she pulled back again with another laugh and a mischievous smile on her face. He raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you hope you’ll achieve by that?” he asked, trying his hardest to maintain his tone serious even though it was almost _impossible_ to keep his lips from -at least- quirking up a little.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” her hand found her chin as she looked up at him playfully. Even though she was sitting on the counter, he was still taller, and his hands were still tight around her. She giggled as she leaned closer. Her palms pressed flat on his chest as she leaned in and gave his chin a gentle bite “…maybe some… lunch?”

His tongue found her cheekbone and dragged his way towards her ear “Take off your pants, Jocasta,” his breath was warm against her earlobe and she shivered. His voice, harsh, almost _commanding._

She did as he asked immediately. Her hands slipped over her shorts, dipping her thumbs beneath. She arched her back, pushing them down along with her knickers and letting them slide down her feet that hung from the edge of the counter. Her legs parted again around him. His hand found her back, unclipping her bra and setting her aching nipples free. She was naked _now. Good._ He leaned back down to trap a breast between his lips and she gasped when his hot tongue ran wetly against her aching nipple while at the same time, two of his fingers pushed inside her. Jocasta gasped.

He drew out the wetness that had gathered, before pushing his fingers back into her, curling inside of her making her lips part in a silent cry that turned into tiny, little whimpers. He groaned against her nipple as his fingers started moving inside of her. Deliberately slow at first, she could tell it was his turn to tease her.

His fingers moved slow. Almost _achingly_ slow. Her nails dug on his shoulders as she groaned irritatingly and her forehead landed on his chest. “What do you want, Jocasta?” His fingers curled inside of her and she gasped.

“You,” she panted in his neck and he let out a low chuckle against her ear. His tongue found her earlobe.

“Say it,” his breath was hot against her wet earlobe. She shivered. She groaned irritatingly.

“I want… _you_ ,” _Damn him,_ he wanted her to _beg_ and the only person she’d ever _willingly_ _beg_ would be _him_ and him alone and he _knew_ it. 

And then he set a fast pace. His fingers pumped in and out of her furiously that she had to clamp her own hand on her mouth and seal her lips. Waking up Laelynn was the last thing she wanted to do _right now._ But his fingers massaged her walls, and pounded into her, deep enough to hit on that spot. He hit it again and again and she kept burying her face more and more into his shoulder trying to silence herself. Her teeth found his skin, biting hard when she came with a groan and his fingers, fucking her mercilessly through her orgasm. Her whole body clenched around his fingers while he took her.

But he kept thrusting them inside of her knocking a breathless gasp out of her. Her back arched and her head rolled back, meeting the wooden shelves. He just stared down at her reaction while he _finger-fucked_ her hard enough to make her dig her nails on the veins of his arms and draw her own traces on his skin. His slippery fingers thrusted in and out of her until the only sound in the kitchen was her fast breathing and the wet _pumping_ while he stretched her.

She came again with a gasp. Her whole body shuddered as a gush of her liquids pulled his fingers deep and her walls convulsed around them. His lips found hers. He growled in her mouth as he pulled his fingers out of her and his hands found her waist, pressing her body against his while he kissed her. Their tongues met in a wild duel for dominance that had her moaning. His hand found her hair, grabbing a fistful of them and pulling her head back before he let go of her mouth and buried his face in her neck. His teeth found her skin again and she gasped.

Her hands found his shoulders, his hair, tangling in the dark, silky locks while he bit and suckled and licked her neck. He let out a groan that made her shiver. Her hands slipped over his pants. His bulge pressed hard against her thigh as she pushed down his pants and pulled him out. He let out a grunt when her fingers gave him a hard stroke. His hips trembled, thrusting himself into her hand, letting out another groan as he pulled away from her neck and looked down at her. His tongue snuck out, dragging a wet line from her cheek to her earlobe.

“Turn around,” he grazed her earlobe in his teeth. His voice, deep, hoarse and desperate. His hand found her breast, trapping a sensitive nipple between his fingers making her gasp. _Damn him._ She pulled her hand away, before slipping off the counter and flipping around. His hand slipped around her waist. Warm fingers spread on her belly. His cock was hard against her buttocks. His arm slipped up, between her breasts and eventually over her neck. He pressed her head over his shoulder as he further parted her legs with his knee.

He guided himself over her opening and pushed in gently. They both sighed at the friction as he stilled deep inside of her and his lips found her bare shoulder, trapping some of her skin between them and biting gently. He pulled out and gently back in making her let out another sigh. He found her lips, parting them with his tongue and pushing back in, meeting her sweet taste. She hummed in the kiss. Her hand reached back for his head pushing him further down to her.

His hands tightened around her as he pulled back and thrust back in knocking a gasp out of her against his lips. He bit on her lower lip as he pulled back and thrusted harshly back in. She squirmed. Her eyes shut closed as her head rolled back on his shoulder as he let go of her lip. He started thrusting into her. Pulling all the way out and roughly back in with slow thrusts and his hips crushing hard against hers. She bit her lip trying to keep back the _shouts_ but his hand found her lips, clamping over her mouth and shushing her while he picked up the pace.

She groaned against his hand as she came hard around him. He let go of her mouth once her body reached for the counter, lying face down on its hard surface once her legs didn’t seem stable enough to keep her standing. She gasped against the counter, panting, sensitive from the shuddering orgasm as he stilled deep inside of her and he leaned in. His hands found her hair, smoothing them over her one shoulder, giving himself enough space to start kissing and licking and biting the sensitive skin on the back of her shoulder.

She propped herself on her elbows so that she could look back at him. He breathed hard on her shoulder before he caught her lips again, pulling out and thrusting back in with force. She would’ve cried out if he hadn’t been kissing her _and thank goodness_ that he did and kept her muffled in that kiss.

He didn’t like it like this. He needed her hands and her legs around him. He needed their eyes locked and their foreheads pressed against each other. He needed her lips on his and her hands into his hair.

Vincent pulled out of her, only to flip her around, settling her on the counter, and enter her again. His mouth was onto hers, muffling another impending shout that had reached her throat and he growled in return as her depths sheathed him like a tight fist and pulled him deep. Her legs grabbed tightly around him, keeping him there, keeping him deep, while her hands reached for his shoulders, his hair, his face. Her tongue swirled against his and he tasted her again and again. He was aware of the little gasps that she let out against his lips. That was probably because of the way that he dug his fingers in the skin of her waist in a desperate attempt to bring her closer.

Close enough to have his chest against hers and the trunk of his body close for her to touch and trace and caress with her soft fingers. His hand found her face. His thumb brushed against her cheek as he broke the kiss and just looked down at her. Her hair was a beautiful, brown mess, and he pushed some of those darkened-from-sweat locks behind her ear. Her nose brushed against his while her thumb found his cheek and her fingers spread down on his neck. Her other hand found his chest pressing flat down on it. 

No matter how many times this would happen, no matter how many times she’d touch him and kiss him and _love_ him, he knew he’d always wonder _how._ How can anybody love _this_? He would look down at his body and all he’d see was _nightmares._ He knew her own body was no better, but he would look at those scars on her wrists, her chest, her neck, her belly, and he _genuinely_ couldn’t find _ugliness._ In himself, he could see the _ugliness everywhere_ and he’d always wonder _how can somebody so perfect fall for somebody so imperfect?_

And as if she had heard his thoughts, she leaned in and pressed kisses on his chest. Her lips found those scars once again and she didn’t hesitate to remind him _how much she loved him._ He never knew how much he _needed that._ He never knew how much he longed for something until he had it, and especially when it was taken away from him. His lips found her temple, pressing a soft kiss against it as she too stopped kissing on his chest, and looked up at him. Her hand found his cheek, and he leaned against the tender touch of her fingers.

Their noses met and his breath brushed warm over her mildly parted lips. His hand found hers and supported it on his cheek. He brought it closer over his lips, pressing a kiss on her palm and she let out a giggle that made his heart flutter. He leaned in and kissed her. He caught her lips with his and she sighed in the kiss. His left hand slipped around her and his right hand found her cheek, keeping her head steady.

He pulled out and gently back in, making them both sigh and shudder. She gave his lip a gentle bite that knocked a groan out of him as he pulled out and back in with the same tenderness. Their foreheads met and he broke the kiss to let her breathe. He pulled out and back in a little bit harsher this time, knocking a breathless gasp out of her. He couldn’t hold back. She was so warm, and wet. Her depths sheathed him tight and he had to bite his tongue to hold back a groan. His hand found her hair. His fingers fisted tightly around her hair, as he pressed her head against his chest. Her hands found his shoulders as she buried her face in his neck and he bit on her shoulder when he gave another harsh thrust.

She had to bite on his skin to hold back a shout that would’ve reverberated all around their house. Her nails drew their lines on his back and his shoulders when he started taking her. He thrust in and out, stretching her tight body. He forced her further over the edge of the counter until all that held her up was the tight hold of her legs around his waist and his hands around her. He growled against her neck as he started thrusting hard, hitting over that spot again and _again_ and she buried her face more and more on his shoulder, trying to muffle herself while he took her. His hand fisted in her hair when she came around him. Her eyes shut tight and her lips parted in a silent cry that he muffled with his lips.

He kissed her while he _fucked_ her through her intense orgasm that had made her whole body clenching against his. He growled in her mouth, breaking the kiss when he came. His warmth plunged deep making her gasp. His hand found her cheek. His sweaty forehead pressed against hers as the two of them shuddered and took a moment to breathe. He brought her further on top of the counter, making sure that she wouldn’t fall, before he buried his face back in her neck and closed his eyes.

He felt her fingers, caressing gently through his sweaty pitch-black hair as he breathed against the warm, white skin of her neck. He felt the weight of her cheek on top of his head. Her hands slipped away from his hair and found his back, his chest, caressing gently over his scars that she recognized.

The two of them fell silent for a short moment, catching their breath. His cheek rested against her shoulder as she pressed her lips on top of his and her fingers lingered on the flawed skin on his chest. She could tell he was being silent for a reason. What was he thinking again? She wasn’t going to ask him. She knew he would tell her if it was something that bothered him enough.

His hand found hers -the one that traced a scar on his chest- and he gathered her fingers in his, stopping their movement around the flawed, ugly skin. He breathed shakily against her shoulder.

“He… used to… cut pieces for testing…” Vincent said as he pulled back and looked down at her. She bit her tongue “…and then he’d cauterize the wounds, to stop the bleeding,”

She knew he was talking about Hojo. She knew the terrible things that _madman_ had done to him. And _indeed,_ the scar felt like something was missing beneath. _Missing flesh._ It was red, and ugly, _cauterized_ indeed. He must’ve suffered so much. He must’ve _screamed_ so much those months and years that Hojo had him restrained and experimented on, and thus his voice had become deeper than it once was. Jocasta’s heart ached as she looked up at him and she could tell he was remembering _again_ and the memories were fresh and clear as if they had happened _yesterday. No,_ she didn’t want him to _remember._ She could see the pain in those crimson eyes.

Her hand found his cheek, and brought his attention back at her. His eyes met hers and he forced a painful smile, trying not to worry her. He had to remind himself that it was all _over. It’s all over._ But no matter how many times he’d keep telling himself that, he knew he could never change what had already happened. He could never wipe the memories that haunted him.

She knew what he’d been through. She had read it all in detail in Hojo’s notebooks. _But no,_ she didn’t want him to remember the _pain_ because it was long gone _but it was still there._ Her hand reached for his and she brought it up on her shoulder, letting him trace a similar scar of hers. He had done the same to her, hadn’t he? He didn’t want to imagine her screams. He didn’t want to imagine her, tossing and turning, restrained and helpless, shouting, begging for help. Begging for it to stop. And she too didn’t want to imagine him do any of that.

His fingers brushed shakily over her own scar, and he sighed heavily. They were the same. The _exact_ same. They had suffered the _same_ pain. They both knew how it felt holding a _demon_ in their bodies and fighting the whispers and the ominous words of a demonic creature. She had been with him since the _very_ beginning. She leaned in, kissing that very scar. Her lips were soft and warm and tender. If it was anybody else, he’d flinch back, scared that he could get hurt. But it was _her._ The woman that he loved and loved him. The mother of his child.

It was almost unbelievable he’d gotten to _this._ He had a _family._ After everything, _he had a family._ A _happy_ reality. A _happy ending_ that he always longed. She had pulled him out of the shadows. Out of that unending solitude. Out of that sea of regrets where he drowned for decades, and _now_ he was there, with a wife and a daughter and a house, and a life that he _adored._ A life that he had only imagined in his dreams until _now._

“Why is it so hard to let go?” She asked and he knew she was asking for both of them.

 _Why was it so hard to let go?_ “Maybe… our past is what makes us what we are now,” he said unsurely.

She looked up at him as his hands tightened around her and her fingers found his cheek “But it does not define us,” she said and he nodded. She gave his lips a peck and she stroked his cheek “We both spent thirty years of our lives trying so hard to... to _die_ ,” she sighed.

“It’s been a rough ride,”

She nodded, but she wanted to change the subject. She didn’t want to have both him and herself, thinking about a past that they were both desperate to forget. She smiled mischievously “You know how that ride’s gonna get rougher?” she leaned close “By you getting me pregnant _again_ ,” she poked a finger on his chest and he let out a small chuckle.

“Who knows? Maybe I want you to get pregnant _again_ ,” he raised an eyebrow.

She laughed “Oh?”

He leaned in to kiss her again, but then the crying came from Laelynn’s room and they both knew what that meant. Jocasta chuckled as he pulled out of her and started dressing up again.

“Careful what you wish for, _daddy_ Vince,” She said playfully before he handed her, her clothes and gave her a look.

“Don’t call me that,” he pointed a finger at her before he left the kitchen to get himself cleaned up before checking on their daughter.

Jocasta laughed amusingly as she put on her clothes and set off to do the same. It didn’t take long till she reached Laelynn’s room. The crying had stopped, and _of course,_ it had. Laelynn was nuzzling her face in Vincent’s neck, with her thumb in her mouth, sucking on it, indicating that she was hungry. Vincent’s hand was so big on top of her little back as he held her against his chest, walking in circles in her room while he talked to her.

Jocasta chuckled as she approached the two and Vincent said “Here, your meal has arrived, little one,”

Jocasta raised an eyebrow as she took Laelynn in her hands and looked at Vincent “ _Meal_?”

He smiled mischievously “I’d take that as a compliment,”

Laelynn’s hands reached for Vincent and she started crying. Jocasta rolled her eyes as Vincent took her back in his arms, and Laelynn stopped crying. Vincent smiled triumphally as she buried her face back in his neck before she looked back at Jocasta and started laughing.

“She adores me, obviously,” Vincent pinpointed.

“I can very much see that, daddy Vince, I’m not blind,” _I’m totally not jealous._ “C’mon honey…” Jocasta’s hands reached for Laelynn “…mommy’s the meal, not daddy,”

Laelynn didn’t reach out for her and Jocasta’s hands hung back down. She frowned.

“I’ve got an idea,” Vincent suggested as he sat back down on the armchair after handing Laelynn to Jocasta.

He patted his hand on his lap and Jocasta chuckled. Just before Laelynn was about to start crying again, Jocasta settled on Vincent’s lap, with Laelynn nuzzling her little head on her mother’s chest. Vincent’s hands slipped around Jocasta’s waist, making sure she wouldn’t fall. Her back rested against his chest as she supported Laelynn’s head on her arm and pulled her shirt away to feed her.

Jocasta rested her head back on Vincent’s shoulder while Laelynn swallowed and she chuckled “Good idea, _daddy Vince_ ,”

He groaned.

She laughed.


	5. Tales From the Past Pt. 1: Jocasta

**December 31 st, ****[** **μ** **] -** **εγλ** **1979**

The winter holidays were arriving in a few days, but there was no such thing as _vacation_ for the First and Second in command scientists of Shinra’s. Even Hollander, trying to prove himself, he never stopped working. Of course, he was back in his warehouse in the Banora Village, with Gillian and the two _experiments._ Jocasta had almost gotten used to calling _humans_ ‘experiments’. 

She did exactly as Hojo had asked her. She made sure Project G would fail. As to _how_ she had managed to do that, _she didn’t want to think about it._ Hollander wasn’t an easy man to work with. Definitely working with Hojo was _harder_ but she had known Hojo ever since they were in the University.

Jocasta looked at the festive decorations in the Skyview Hall of the Shinra Tower. It was empty. It was night. Another day had ended. Only she and Hojo were the ones working in the lab while the rest of the scientists had taken those two weeks off to celebrate Christmas with their families. But Jocasta had no family, and neither did Hojo. Their very house was that _wretched,_ yet beautiful building. She looked outside the windows. The lights were dim and silence fell in the empty 59th floor.

Her fingers lingered on the cold glass that rested on the table in front of her. She was in her lab-coat, staring outside at the snowflakes that landed on the black marble of the snowed balcony. Jocasta looked back down at the honey-coloured liquid and the half-empty bottle that rested beside. She hadn’t realized she had drunk half of it. _Who cares?_ She chugged down her glass and let it burn down her throat. She filled the glass again and turned her attention back on the windows and the magnificent view that they held beneath. Of course, it was hidden behind the snow that slowly fell from the dark sky.

These were going to be the second Christmas that she was going to be spending like this. She remembered the times, back in Nibelheim, when their little group would spend the holidays together. They would all gather in the Shinra Manor. Gast, Tedric, Hojo, Lucrecia and Jocasta. Their little team. They had been friends ever since the university. _Yes,_ that’s where they met.

Jocasta sighed. Her hand found her forehead and rubbed gently the insistent ache. She would dance with Tedric, and have a drink, and a laugh. They would have scientific talks, and play cards and eat all night long till midnight. Even in New Year's Eve they would wear their lab-coats because the five of them would _always_ work. But at least they always worked _together._ She hadn’t realised she missed those days. She missed them _so much_.

Hojo would always sit alone, awkwardly in the corner, with his notebook in his hands, scribbling down chemical reactions and _who knows what_. It was obvious that he hated to be there. He wanted to go back to the lab, but Gast and Tedric would try to keep him there, reminding him once more that _he didn’t have to be alone,_ even though he always liked that. _Loneliness. Work._ It kept his mind off things. Things that Jocasta could never tell. 

Gast would make his _sucky_ biology jokes that no one but the five of them could understand. Tedric would put on the music that they’d dance to, and Lucrecia with Jocasta would make sure there was always something for dinner.

She missed those days. She really did. Tedric was around. She’d have someone to rely on, but _now… Now_ she had no one. Lucrecia was gone. Lucrecia’s parents were dead. Vincent was _dead_. She really had nothing and no one.

Jocasta took another sip from her whiskey and she sighed heavily. She heard footsteps, but she was too dazed to even _care_ about turning around to see who it was. She knew who it was. There was no one else in the building. Even the President himself was out of town for the holidays.

Hojo picked up the bottle that she had almost emptied and she could even sense the frown on his face. “Unless you want to acquire liver fibrosis or cardiomyopathy, I suggest you stop drinking, Doctor,” He let the bottle back down on her table as he walked towards the window, staring outside and trapping his hands behind his back.

“What if I do? Who cares?” Jocasta shrugged as she refilled her glass and he frowned.

He knew the answer but he’d never admit it. Hojo just stared outside the windows, with his back turned at her and his hands crossed against his chest. He did not give her an answer and, _honestly,_ she wasn’t expecting him to. She just sighed heavily and he didn’t know _why_ he hated this. He hated this _so much_ he didn’t know how to stop it. Why was she like that? Was she not happy? Had he done something wrong?

He replayed it all back into his mind and he found _nothing_ wrong. His moves, his decisions, they all made sense to him. He was a scientist and as a scientist he had done anything in his power to _find_ answers and aid humanity. That was his goal. That’s what he vouched to do when he got his Doctor’s Degree. Even if humanity needed to be _destroyed_ in order to be _saved,_ he would have no problem doing that. _Yes._ Taking all risks necessary. Even if he had to watch that poor, little boy _screaming_ in pain. Even that little boy’s mother was no longer around for him.

_Now, now why does this sound similar?_

He shot the thought away. He was no longer _helpless_ like he once was. He was the most brilliant scientist of his time and _he knew it_ and he made sure _everybody knew it._

 _Actually, no._ He wasn’t. He wasn’t, was he? _The most brilliant scientist of his time._ He sighed. He knew it wasn’t him, but it was _her_ instead. _Dr Jocasta Ernchester_. Maybe that’s why he pointed out the consequences of excess alcohol consumption. Why was she drinking? She was in the position that she deserved to be. _Second in Command of Shinra’s Research and Development Department._ No woman ever held that position before her, and she did hold it _now_ and she was doing it _excellently. Why is she drinking?_ He was sure she didn’t even know herself.

“Are you sad, Dr Ernchester?”

It was a question that caught her off guard. What was she supposed to say? That she hated her life? This place? Him? That she hated every single second of her life? He had been experimenting on Sephiroth, and he wasn’t letting her see him and she hated him for that. She _hated_ this life. She _hated_ every single second. Her fiancé was dead, Lucrecia was dead, the people who raised her were gone, and Vincent was _dead_ and she had nothing else to hope for. She had never felt so alone. So hopeless. She wanted to protect Sephiroth but she had failed to do just that when Hojo started his experiments on him, and she hated herself for that because she was so _weak. So weak._

Was she supposed to explain all these to the man responsible for her misery? That _monster_ that she worked with. That _monster_ was the only one she had left. And it hurt _so much_ knowing that.

“No,” she answered briefly.

“Then why are you drinking?”

“Why do you care?”

He frowned again and he turned and looked at her. _Why do I care? What kind of question is this?_ She was supposed to know the answer after all those years that they had known each other. _Of course,_ he cared. He cared in his own, _unique_ way, but he did. She was a scientist. _No,_ she was the _best_ scientist. She could win his position if she wanted to. She could discover so much _for him._ She was _important_. So, so _important_. How could she be so selfish and not see that?

She knew she wouldn’t be receiving an answer any time soon so she picked up another glass of whiskey and brought it to her lips to sip it. He approached her and his hand reached for the glass, pulling it away from her hand and she looked up at him _confused_.

“Enough drinking for today,” he said sternly as he took both the glass and the empty bottle, and returned them to the bar counter for the caretakers to deal with in the morning.

She didn’t complain. She was too tired to complain. She just rested her hands on the table and pressed her cheek on top of her forearm, closing her eyes. The alcohol _did_ keep her thoughts at bay. She was tired. She was exhausted. She noticed him sitting across her on the table and she lifted her head back up, propping it on her palm, staring back at the man who had made her life a living hell but his questions and his words were just so… _confusing._

He sighed and looked away from her. His hands trapped one another and rested on the table in front of him. He didn’t know why it was so hard to say it. “Believe it or not, I don’t like watching you being like that… Jocasta,” Even spelling out her name without the formalities, it was difficult, but he managed it. He knew that whatever he found _difficult_ it was just his _mind_ making it _difficult_ whilst it wasn’t.

She chuckled bitterly “Like what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,”

“How do you want me to be?” She asked.

“Content,”

She chuckled again and her hand reached for her forehead, cursing the headache that had already started creeping on her. _Content?_ How could she be _content_?

“Honestly, I do not understand,” Hojo admitted as he took off his glasses and grabbed his handkerchief, wiping the dirt that always laid on his lenses. He too could never work if the glass wasn’t crystal clear. Anything _out of place_ bothered him. “You’re in the epicentre of science! Billions of gil handed to us to aid to our research. Any other scientist would’ve been more than delighted to be where you are now. Nay, to be where I am now. Yet you sit here. Drunk and pathetic and depressed. You’re really making me question your ingenuity,”

“A research on what? The President himself believes in fairy tales. People suffer for our research. Innocent people-” Jocasta tried to say. The alcohol seemed to have no longer its effect on her. Her heart burned for _justice._ But he cut her mid-sentence.

“Those are just small, nugatory sacrifices to aid in a bigger cause,”

“Nugatory?! They’re human lives, Hojo! They’re not supposed to be treated like this. I don’t care what the President wants. What we do here is not right! It’s inhumane! It’s unethical!”

“Tell me, Jocasta, if you could engineer the genome of a zygote and make sure that that being grows up with zero chances to suffer from a deadly disease, would you do it? Or would you still going to be held back by those… those pointless, ethical values?”

“No! That has nothing to do with tying down a two-year-old and experimenting on him!”

Hojo sighed. He dipped the handkerchief back in his pocket and he put his glasses back on “I should have never let you bond with the boy,” he admitted regretfully.

“Please!” Her hand found his on the table and he felt like flinching back immediately, but he was too shocked by the contact to _think._ “Please, I did everything you asked! In 24 years from now, Project G is going to fail thoroughly. But please, please don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt Sephiroth! At least not too much, please! At least let me see him, please! He’s… he’s my son,” a tear slipped down her cheek and he did not want to look at her.

He snapped his hand away and stood up “He’s not your son,”

“I raised him-”

“So what?!” Hojo snapped “He was supposed to be _my_ son! _My_ son!” he pointed his thumb at himself. He was angry. _Furious._ “Lucrecia was supposed to want _me_ and _me_ alone! But, of course…” he chuckled bitterly as he turned his back on her and stared out of the windows “…nobody ever wanted me…” he turned and looked at her. _Her._ The only one out of the five who was still around “…not even you,”

And with that, she watched him as he stormed out of the room, hastily. He needed to get back into his lab and drown back in his work. _His lab_ was the only place where he found his solace.

Jocasta buried her face in her hands and wept against them. She didn’t know how much time passed until she _tried_ to stand on her feet and start walking back to her quarters. She _tried._ Throwing her hands over the walls, trying to keep herself standing. The alcohol was still in her blood, and it would rush there for the next twenty-four hours. She knew she wasn’t going to make it to her room. And she didn’t. Her legs gave in and she knew she’d crush on the floor. But that didn’t happen either. She just knew she lost all senses and she sank in sleep’s never-ending abyss. 

⊱═⊰❉⊱✿⊰❉⊱═⊰

 **January 1 st, ****[** **μ** **] -** **εγλ** **1980**

_“Momma?”_

She wasn’t sure if she actually heard something, or if it was the voices in her nightmares, playing tricks on her. She just knew she had a terrible headache. She just knew her whole body was in pain. But she was lying down on a bed. She felt the soft tugging of somebody pulling on her shirt.

“Momma,”

The voice came loud again. Louder and clearer. She had indeed heard it. She wasn’t alone. She opened her eyes and snapped out of sleep, only to meet those bright, piercing, big green eyes. Her own eyes widened in surprise. Her hand reached for his little back as he propped himself on his elbow and looked down at her. She woke on sitting position. His little hands reached for her and she picked him up, settling him on her lap.

Her heart raced as she saw the marks on his hands, from injections and cuts. Bruises and scars that would mark him forever. Sephiroth’s little hands reached around her shoulders and he buried his face in her neck.

“Sephy, sweetheart, are you okay?” She asked worriedly. Her fingers found that silver hair that almost reached his back. She felt him wetting her neck with his tears and his sobs reached her ears and broke her heart. She pressed her cheek on top of his head.

“I- I missed you…” his little hand reached for his eyes, rubbing the tears away, but another sob erupted from his trembling lips as he pulled back and looked up at her. Her hands reached for his cheeks and wiped his tears away.

“I’m so sorry, Sephy…” She said and she knew a simple apology wasn’t enough. She hadn’t seen him in _months_ because Hojo wouldn’t let her. But she woke up there, which meant that someone had taken her there and the only person who had access to that room was…

Sephiroth buried his face back in her neck and wept there, while she pressed a kiss on his temple and closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her own cheek and she held him tightly, protectively. She didn’t know what Hojo’s intentions were. Why would he take her there? 

⊱═⊰❉⊱✿⊰❉⊱═⊰

**December 31 st ****[** **μ** **] -** **εγλ** **1979**
    
    
      **11:58:09, 10, 11…PM**
    

He was on his way back to his quarters, searching for a specific kind of tool that only existed there. And that’s where he saw her. In the middle of a dark corridor, amongst the many of the Shinra Tower. Her hands were on the wall, pressing her weight against it. Her feet shook, barely holding her up. He didn’t know what drove him. He just knew he hurried towards her. He hated people touching him or him touching other people, but that was a fear that he did not care about _now_.

She fainted, and he acted fast, hurrying towards her and passing a hand around her. He wasn’t sure he knew _how_ to hold her. He hadn’t held anybody before. He didn’t know how to do it. He settled her on his lap while he knelt down. Her head rested back on his shoulder and he could smell the alcohol. Her eyes were shut closed and her hands were freezing cold.

Hojo sighed. What was he supposed to do _now_? Take her in her room and _tuck her to bed_? It sounded ridiculously hilarious. He wasn’t some _knight_ to go around and help the _helpless._ But he knew he should feel uncomfortable about touching her hand. He should feel uncomfortable about holding her, with her head on his shoulder and her back against his chest. He should feel uncomfortable, but he _didn’t_ and he didn’t know why. He just knew it terrified him. _Feelings are just chemical reactions in the brain_ then why did they make her a wreck?

The most brilliant scientist he’d ever known, and still those _ridiculous_ things as _emotions_ were the very reason she had passed out. He looked down at her and she was paler than she’d ever been. Her hands were cold. Her hair was a short, brown mess. The expression on her face, the one of a tormented soul. He didn’t know why but he _hated_ that. Why couldn’t she be like him? Why couldn’t she see the _importance_ of their experiments? Why couldn’t she _stop_ feeling?

He sighed. He couldn’t do anything about that. He couldn’t change her mind and intrude into her thoughts and _change_ her. He couldn’t do any of those _without her consent_ which he was sure that he was going to get one day. _One day._

And then an idea popped in his mind and he _congratulated_ himself because it was _brilliant._ He had just figured out a way to _earn_ her consent, and once that was done, he would _change_ her and _make her his. Yes! Yes, brilliant!_

He passed his hands beneath her, supporting her head on his forearm, as he picked her up and carried her back to Sephiroth’s room. The young boy was sleeping, peacefully and deeply. There was still lots of space on his bed.

Hojo lied her down on the bed. His hand reached for her hair and he pushed the messy locks away from her face. Hojo walked towards the exit of the room, and he stopped halfway, giving Sephiroth and Jocasta one last look. Sephiroth was _his_ son in the eyes of the world. Jocasta was his _wife’s_ sister. It almost felt like they were _a family._

He looked at the watch that he had tied around his wrist and a smile formed on his lips. “Happy New Year, my darlings,” 


	6. Tales From the Past Pt. 2: Hojo

**January 1 st, ****[** **μ** **] -** **εγλ** **1980**
    
    
      **9:03:15, 16, 17… AM**
    

Once again, he cleared his glasses, before proceeding to put them back on and stare down at the lenses of the microscope. _Remarkable._ JENOVA cells had always been _remarkable_ to stare at. They were so different. They were so _perfect._ There were so many _possibilities_ when it came to that being’s genome. Secrets that only Jocasta had unfolded.

_Once upon a time,_ the one put in charge for studying its genome had been that _low-class scientist_ Dr Tedric Phillips. Jocasta’s long-gone _fiancé. What a pity he was dead_. Hojo let out a laugh. He was alone in the lab and he hadn’t slept all night, but he did not need sleep. Not having those petty scientists around, asking for directions about _everything,_ it helped him work better. It helped him work _more_. The labs were almost empty, except for the poor specimens that were trapped, in deep sleep in their Mako Tubes.

“Slept well?” he asked once he heard footsteps approaching.

He knew it was Jocasta. There was nobody else who had access to those floors. She had a hand on her temple, cursing the hangover beneath her breath. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. Her glasses hung from the rope that she had around her neck. She wore a brown, buttoned shirt and a black skirt beneath her lab-coat. Her short hair barely reached her shoulders and some brown locks fell on her forehead. She didn’t seem annoyed by them.

“I… suppose,” she approached the lab counter that he worked on. There was a glass of… _orange juice?_ A note left beside it with Hojo’s handwriting. _Drink me._

She raised an eyebrow. She was smarter than to _trust_ this man. There was probably something into that glass. Was he trying to drug her? And then tie her down and experiment on her? _No,_ she was definitely not going to drink this. She couldn’t be sure _what_ it was, even though it did look and smelled like _orange juice._

He sighed. His attention still on the microscope, but she was sure he had noticed her hesitation. “I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re not letting me,”

“What’s in there?” She pointed a finger on the glass, keeping a cautious distance between her and him.

“What do you think it is? 20.8g of sugars, 112 calories, 26 grams of carbohydrates, folate, flavonoids, hesperidin and 149% of Vitamin C. You definitely need all of these,” Hojo said, not once taking his attention away from the sample that he was testing.

But she still hesitated and his frown grew. He lifted his attention away from the microscope and he turned and looked at her as she walked past his counter and settled on another.

“Well then, if you won’t have it, then I will,” He shrugged and brought the glass in his hand taking a sip.

“I can… take care of myself,” her voice came, shy and low from the other counter as she started checking the cultures of cells that she had let grow from the day before.

He looked across her and he chuckled “No, you can’t. I’d appreciate it if you stopped drinking,” his hand fisted as he got off his chair and turned his back on her, to reach for something on the other counter. His teeth gritted, his hand fisted and pressed on the counter “Drinking makes people do things… terrible things…” 

⊱═⊰❉⊱✿⊰❉⊱═⊰

**November 20 th, ****[** **μ** **] -** **εγλ** **1954**
    
    
      **10:36:47, 48, 49… PM**
    

_Shouts. All he could hear was Mother screaming and Father shouting. And then there was that loud banging on the closed door of the kitchen. They had been in there for hours. It seemed like forever since Father dragged Mother in there, and the screams were never-ending, and piercing and scary._

_Scared. He was frightened. His little hands reached for his head, sealing his ears as he shut his eyes and hurried beneath the table of the living room. He hid there. He felt safe, hidden from Father’s reach. Green bottles with a label on top. A name of a brand that he’d seen before. He had learned reading it even though he was barely four-years-old. Mother’s books were the only toys he ever knew, and Mother would teach him how to read while Father was away._

_He read the label of the five or more green bottles. They were empty, but once carried beer that was now consumed by Father. There were empty bottles everywhere around the small house in the Provinces of Mideel. Whenever Father would drink this, he would hurt Mother and sometimes Hojo would have to get in the way, trying to stop him her screams._

_A tear slipped down his cheek as he tried his best to ignore the shouts that slowly started dying down. But the banging didn’t die out, and that scared him more and more._

⊱═⊰❉⊱✿⊰❉⊱═⊰

**January 1 st, ****[** **μ** **] -** **εγλ** **1980**
    
    
      **9:14:45, 46, 47… AM**
    

“…Hojo?”

Weight. He felt a small weight pressing down his shoulder but it was still enough to alarm him. Hojo snapped back to reality and he turned around immediately. She pulled her hand away from his shoulder and she made a step back, frightened. Just as frightened as he was back then. Why was she so scared of him? He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t a _monster. No,_ he definitely wasn’t. He would never hurt anybody _without their consent._ Especially _her._ He would never hurt her, _unless she ever wronged him._ Or unless _she asked him to._

And then he felt a sensation that he recognized, but he hadn’t felt _in so long._ Something hot and slick, slipped down his cheek and he wiped it away immediately. He looked at his wetted hand. _Tears? Really?_ He chuckled, mocking himself. That was _ridiculous_. That was _insane._ He had no reason to _cry_ about anything, _any more._ For once in his life, he was being _stupid. Stupid._ Maybe that’s why she was looking worriedly at him.

_Looking?_ She had seen him? Crying? _How dare he allow that?!_ He’d never let anybody watch him being _weak. Weak._ He was no longer _weak_. He was no longer that four-year-old, scared boy.

“Naught to worry, dear,” he turned his back on her and wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his lab coat. “I’d just… appreciate it, if you stopped drinking,”

“I…” she was confused, that much he could tell. But he could no longer feel her eyes on him and instead she looked down and dipped her hands in her pockets “…alright. I’ll… try,”

“Good, now…” he walked towards the exit of the lab “…excuse me,” he walked out, almost hurriedly, and for a moment she was tempted to follow him. Tempted to sit him down and talk and find out what it was that made a _monster_ cry. It must’ve been something terrible. Something linked to alcohol, _perhaps_. She _almost_ felt _sad_ and _sorry_ for him. She almost felt like she _needed_ to follow him and _make sure he was okay._ But then she scolded at herself mentally. She knew she got nothing in return from being _good_ with people, but it was just a feeling that she _couldn’t_ suppress.

She always _sought_ to help people, and maybe that was why she had chosen to become a Doctor in the first place. Even people _like Hojo._ There was definitely a reason _why_ he was like this. There was definitely a reason _why_ he was _insane._ No one is _born insane._ He had experimented on his own wife, and even though she knew, that Lucrecia’s and Hojo’s marriage was no more than a deal, last night he had said something that proved things otherwise.

_“Sephiroth was supposed to be my son! My son! Lucrecia was supposed to want me and me alone! But, of course… nobody ever wanted me… not even you,”_

Jocasta groaned. Those words complicated matters. Her hand found her forehead and she rubbed her temple. She was still on hangover but still couldn’t help but storm those words around her mind. What did he mean by that? Did he really mean that he actually _felt_ something? Such as sadness? Desperation? Need? Need for what? Compassion? Love? _Sympathy?_ Could a _monster_ like him ever _feel any_ of these? That was ridiculous. _No._ That man had _almost_ killed her. He had almost taken her as a test subject when he intruded in Gast’s house that night, ready to stop him and Ifalna from leaving. And Jocasta had gotten there just in time, making a _deal_ with Hojo that ensured the protection of Gast and the Cetra.

That man was experimenting on Sephiroth, and she couldn’t hate him more for that. He was experimenting on a _two-year-old_ innocent boy that was _supposed to be his son_ even though both Jocasta and Hojo knew that _he_ wasn’t. _Still,_ that was no excuse to experiment on a _two-year-old innocent boy_.

Jocasta sighed and she did what she was _sure_ that she was going to regret. She walked out and headed towards his own personal lab where she knew that he’d be. That place was pretty much _his quarters_. He used to lock it in the nights so that the maids wouldn’t fumble through his things. He never liked having people messing with his endless notes and _ridiculous_ number of colourful pens that he used to make these notes.

Her hand almost shook when she set off to knock on his door. Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe she should just _leave_ and let him sink in his misery because that’s what he deserved after everything he had done and he kept on doing. But her hand knocked with no permission and she gritted her teeth.

“Go away,” Hojo’s voice came from the inside and it almost sounded _childish._ As if he was a scared _child_ that wanted to be left alone, _just like Sephiroth_ , when he’d hide in the vast libraries of the Corporate Archives, and he’d cry there, and she’d find him and be there for him.

The door was unlocked, so she turned the doorknob and entered anyway, without considering the consequences of doing that. Even though the maids never touched that particular small lab, it was clean. Probably cleaner than any other lab in the building. The pens were set in a perfect order on top of his table, according to their colours. The notes and the papers were all set neatly on top of the counter, with the rest of the tools, all turned off. He wasn’t there to use them. He was there to sit on the floor, with his back against the cold wall. One knee bent up with his hand propped on top, and the other leg just sprawled on the floor. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, neither was he wearing his lab-coat. Instead it was hanging from the nearby coat-stand, while his glasses rested beside him on the floor.

He chuckled bitterly. “When did _‘go away’_ become _‘come in’_? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” she sighed. She couldn’t believe she was going to say this. “…worry,”

“For me? Someone… _worries_ … for me?” he seemed so surprised and confused about it. His head landed back on the wall as he looked at a random spot in the room. “Well that’s a first. I do not need your pity, and I certainly do not need your _compassion_. Emotions such as these are _useless_. They always had been,”

“I always wondered whether emotions make somebody strong or weak…” Jocasta admitted as she knelt beside him and he almost flinched away. His body tensed. She knew he hated having people close. He hated people touching him, or anything that was _his_. He was uncomfortable with any kind of contact and that much was clear.

“ _Weak_. The answer is weak… yes. What happens when somebody feels something for someone? And those feelings drive them to make choices that they inevitably regret? Yes. Emotions are a problem. A terrible one,”

She could tell he was trying his best not to look at her and she too was trying her best to look anywhere else but him. Was he talking about _him_ and _Lucrecia_? Did he really feel something for her? Jocasta couldn’t tell, and she hated not being able to. There was something more to it.

“Yeah, but what about anger? And hate? They make people strong. Strong enough to bring the world upside down,” Jocasta said.

His answer took long to come and she had to turn her head and look at him. He nodded “Anger, pain, despair, hate… so, so much hate,”

_Yes._ So much hate gathered for his long-gone _father._ Why did a wicked man had to be _his_ father? Why did he have to get beaten up by his father’s belt every day, every time when he’d jump in the way, trying to stop _Mother’s_ cries of pain? Why did it have to _hurt_ so much? Why couldn’t he just have a normal life? And then those lowlife kids in _school, high school, university, wherever._ They were everywhere and always made sure to show their _superiority_ on him by _beating him up_ as well, and making jokes about his mother abandoning him and his _cursed father._

His hand fisted. Why did he think of all of these _now_?! _Now_ that _she_ was there _and she could see him_ breaking down and acting _weak._ He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. “You should leave,”

She sighed. She didn’t know what it was that _bothered_ him, she just knew it was something _terrible._ She placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away. He looked up at her as she pulled her hand back immediately.

“I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re not letting me,” She chuckled.

He knew what she was doing and he shook his head. Using his own words against him, _cheap move._ “I can take care of myself,”

“No, you can’t,”

“Please, leave-”

“I’ll do what you _want_ me to do, not what you _ask_ of me,” she lent a hand forward, offering a hug, but he just looked at her hand as if it was a foreign gesture. One that he’d never seen before. She sighed. “When my parents died, and I was taken to an orphanage… I was bullied a lot too, that’s why I left, and spent a few years, begging on the streets,” she confessed.

Words she’d only spoken before to Tedric and nobody else. He still looked away from her and she let her hand down. She sighed and she set off, to stand up and walk out. _Who am I kidding?_ Hojo was too proud to accept such gestures. Too proud to take her hand and admit that _“yeah… I’m weak,”_ because everybody holds a weakness and she had just spoken out hers and he didn’t seem moved by it. Jocasta tried to stand up but he caught her hand and pushed her back down.

Next thing she knew, he was hugging her, and she was nothing but surprised and confused. _How?_ He buried his face on her shoulder, wetting her lab-coat with… _tears?_ Was he really crying? Can _monsters really_ cry? She just let out a sigh of… _relief? Relief_ for what? She couldn’t tell. She just hugged him back, and patted his back soothingly and pressed her cheek on his own shoulder. His hands were tight around her. Almost too tight, as if he didn’t know _how_ to hold somebody. As if he’d never _hugged_ or gotten _hugged_ by somebody before. What had this poor soul gone through?

It still felt nice _being hugged._ She hadn’t had somebody to hug her ever since Vincent and Lucrecia _died._ Ever since _Tedric died._ She didn’t have anybody but the _monster_ that was _now_ crying on her shoulder. _What a weird situation is this?_ She didn’t know whether she should feel disgusted or pity.

Had they gotten to this because of her? Her _kind heart that ached for any poor soul that she laid eyes on, even him?_ The man who had made her life a _living hell_. She was hugging him _now_ and he sighed on her shoulder as he pulled back immediately. He stood up on his feet and turned his back on her, no once letting her see his face.

She couldn’t say she didn’t understand. She too didn’t want to let _anybody_ watch her while she’d cry and break down and be _weak_ but at least, she still wanted to let him know that… _oh God,_ of all people _why Hojo_? She never thought she’d _relate_ to that _monster_.

“It seems you and I have a lot more in common than I expected…” he wiped his cheeks before he turned and looked at her “…Jocasta,” she was still sitting on the floor and he approached her and lent a hand to help her stand up.

It was still surprising though. She looked at his hand for a moment and she knew he _didn’t_ _like_ touching people, yet he was still offering to help her. To touch her even though it was just a small, kind gesture. She took his hand and he lifted her back up, before he let go of her and reached for his lab-coat.

“I’d appreciate it if we pretend today never happened,” Hojo said as he put his glasses back on and reached for the door.

“Of course,”


	7. Seeking the Truth Pt. 1

> **Friday 2 nd November, ****[** **μ** **] -** **εγλ** **0012**
>     
>     
>       **05:41:57, 58, 59… PM**
>     

Ironing clothes -she had to admit- it wasn’t her favourite chore, but it still needed to be done. Some would say that all these clothes weren’t supposed to be gathering, since they were only two people and a baby. _Lies._ Vincent’s taste in outfits and clothes was exquisite, but that meant _lots of clothes to iron. Why in the world would he wear a whole different outfit every single day?_ She’d never scold at him because - _damn him_ \- she loved him and everything about him, even the _seven different shirts_ and the _seven different trousers_ and the _seven different coats -and not to mention the underwear and the socks._ So many _socks._ Even though they were all the _exact same colour._ It happened every once a week. Friday was the _ultimate chore_ day.

Vincent was resting and she had barely escaped the tight cuddling that they always did in the evenings. She had kissed his forehead and told him that she still had some work to do. She’d never seen him pouting before, but then she brought him Laelynn and she was sure that _now_ the two of them were sleeping in the master bedroom.

She sighed and she found she had a smile on her lips. _Well_ , all those clothes were still worth it. She loved Vincent. She loved their daughter. She loved their friends, their house. She _loved her life._ She never had this before. She divided the clothes into three. His, hers, and Laelynn’s. She grabbed each and started wandering around the house to put them back all in their shelves and the closets.

Once she was done, she returned back to the bedroom. The only source of light was the lamp on the bed table by her side. Vincent and Laelynn were both sleeping. His hair was a mess by his pillow, whilst Laelynn’s little body rested on top of his chest. Her little fingers were tight around his dark red shirt. Jocasta couldn’t help but _smile._ She pressed her weight on the entrance of their room and crossed her hands against her chest. Her temple found the wall as she stared at the two with a dreamy smile on her lips. It was still an image that she’d never get tired of staring at.

But the more she stared at the two, the more familiar the image got. Her smile faded as she tried to think of what it reminded her. She tried again and again but all she could pick up were voices. A conversation, perhaps?

_“Father… I’m scared,”_

_“Of the storm?”_

_“Yeah,”_

_“No reason to be. Storms are nothing but clouds crushing together,”_

_“It’s alright, darling. You can come sleep with us,”_

_“Your mom’s right. Hop in,”_

What were those voices? Who was that man? Who was that child? Who was the mother? How did she have that memory if she didn’t know who these people were? It couldn’t have been her parents. She was never afraid of the storms. Sephiroth was. Hester was. _Hester._ Could it have been Hester? She said _‘father’._ No child at this age calls their dad ‘ _father’._

_“Your mom’s right. Hop in,”_

Could this have been Hojo? _No way._ There was no doubt Hojo was a terrible father. Hester claimed so, _at least_.

_“Your **mom’s** right…” _

_No._ It couldn’t have been Hojo. Hojo was a single father. _No._ It couldn’t have been Hester and Hojo. Hester had no mother and Jocasta was regretting that to this day but… why did she have this memory? Why did it sound as clear as if it was happening right in front of her?

She shook her head. It was probably her mind playing tricks on her and - _honestly_ \- it wasn’t the first time _nor_ was it going to be _the last._ She just snapped back to reality. She knew both her and Vincent were at that phase where it all just came back to them. Even the deepest, most unwanted memories were all coming back and maybe what she just _now_ recalled was something that she never knew she had. A memory.

_A memory of what, though?_ It all happened so quickly, she didn’t get to recognise the voices and - _honestly_ \- she _didn’t_ _want_ to recognise them. She just wanted to forget it, whatever it was, and focus on _now._

Jocasta pulled on a smile when she noticed Vincent stirring slowly. She walked towards them and sat beside him on the bed. Her hands reached for their little daughter’s back as she caressed her hair and smoothed her little pink singlet back in place. Vincent looked down at Laelynn who was still sleeping on his chest, and a smile flashed across his lips right away. He pressed a kiss on her little temple and she shifted further into his neck while he pressed his cheek gently on top of her head.

He looked up at Jocasta as he took her hand in his significantly warmer arm and laced their fingers together. She had that troubled expression on her face even though he could tell that she was trying to mask it with a smile. His hand reached for her cheek and she leaned against his fingers.

“What is it?”

She smiled and took his hand in hers and turned her head to press kisses on his palm “The usual,” she let out a soft chuckle and he nodded in understanding.

He knew what that meant. It meant that she thought again about a memory that had bothered her and -frankly- he wished he could stop her from _thinking_. He couldn’t stop her though. Nor he could stop himself from doing the same.

“It’s alright,” he said soothingly as he brushed his thumb across her cheek and she leaned in, pressing her own face in his neck whilst his hand slipped around her back and snuck beneath her shirt, caressing her skin with his warm fingers. She breathed him in and closed her eyes and sighed.

They had to figure something out. There must have been some way that they could get themselves to _stop thinking_ of the horrible past that they carried in their memories. There must have been some way.

⊱═⊰❉⊱✿⊰❉⊱═⊰

It was only a few weeks later that Cid Jr.’s birthday took place. Cid and Shera made sure they had invited everybody back to their house in Rocket Town to celebrate Junior’s first birthday.

Jocasta was sure everybody was going to be there, and she -honestly- waited impatiently for that day. She had missed everybody _so much_. Sephiroth, Cid, Hester, Shera, Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Marlene, Denzel, even Yuffie. The ninja’s energetic attitude was something that she had _surprisingly_ missed, not to mention Cid’s continuous cursing, Barret’s loud laughter. Marlene’s bright face while she smiled and ran around, playing with Denzel and the _existing_ babies. Even Reeve and Red were going to be there, even though they were both busy, one rebuilding the world, and the other commanding and protecting an almost extinct tribe.

There was loud chatter coming from the inside of the house, as Jocasta and Vincent approached. They parked the car nearby, in the streets of Rocket Town. Cid had told them he’d make sure he set all tables and goods in the large backyard of his house, since all these people that he had invited for his son’s birthday, wouldn’t just fit in the house.

Laelynn was sleeping peacefully in the wheelchair, and nothing could get her to awake. No matter how loud Cid and Barret would curse and yell, or how loud Yuffie would speak her nonsense or the noise that Marlene and Denzel make when they start playing around, Laelynn would still stay asleep. She _loved_ to sleep any other time but _night_. Probably her love for sleep must have come from her father. Jocasta grinned at the thought. _Definitely._

She had a backpack filled with everything needed for Laelynn. Her pyjamas, her bottle, her milk, water -already warmed in the right temperature, sustained in a thermos. Who could have thought that a baby would need so many things? _Who could have thought Jocasta would be good at it?_

“Want me to carry the backpack?” Vincent asked for the _twentieth_ time and she rolled her eyes and turned and gave him a smile.

“No, Vince, relax. I can handle it,” She reassured him and Vincent sighed.

“At least let me do something,” Vincent insisted and she sighed as they stopped walking down the sidewalk and she moved aside.

“Okay then, you roll Laelynn,”

Vincent nodded and smiled at his wife as he grabbed hold of the wheelchair and they continued walking towards Cid’s house. “Yes, ma’am,”

Jocasta chuckled as she tangled an arm around his and they walked side by side till they reached the doorstep. She pressed on the doorbell and it didn’t take more than a few seconds when the door opened revealing Cid behind.

Cid let out a loud exclamation “Oi! Vinnie and Joe have arrived!” He opened the door wide, letting them both in before he pulled both in tight, suffocating hugs. The next to hug them was Shera. She had Cid Junior in her one hand and Jocasta didn’t waste the time to let his little fingers catch her own and plant a soft kiss on his small forehead.

“Happy First Birthday, little one,” Jocasta said.

“He’s gonna be such a brilliant Rocket Scientist, I’m so proud of this lil devil,” Cid said with a wide smile on his face.

“And proud you always must be, old friend,” Vincent said as he patted a hand on Cid’s shoulder.

“Ah, no worries, Vinnie. I ain’t like your jackass old man,” Cid laughed and Shera smacked his shoulder.

“Cid!”

“What? I’m sure he agrees!”

“Where’s our little sis!” Hester’s voice came from behind and everybody turned at her and Sephiroth as they approached from behind. 

The two of them didn’t even bother to hug their parents. Hester just hurried over Laelynn and she picked her up and started talking to her, and Sephiroth just stared at her and at how _cute_ she looked with their half-sister in her hands.

“Looks like you won’t be needing this anytime soon,” Cid said as he helped Vincent settle the baby wheelchair in some other room at the back with their coats.

Hester and Sephiroth held their little sister almost the entirety of their long stay in the captain’s house. The entire team was there. Even Reeve had for once taken the night off and chosen to be there with his wife, Tala. Denzel and Marlene were playing around with Tifa’s and Cloud’s daughter whilst both Tifa and Cloud were being overprotective parents, keeping a close eye on their daughter.

Jocasta offered to hold the camera when Shera showed up with the blue birthday cake and everybody gathered around Cid Junior to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. There was something so familiar about everything that happened. Jocasta made sure she was drawing the footage before she slipped her gaze away from the camera and back onto the happy family.

Shera and Cid had settled Cid Junior on the couch between them, close enough to the candles of the birthday cake. Why did it all felt so… _familiar?_ She hadn’t been before at a birthday party, _had she?_ She couldn’t quite tell. She had never been to _such_ a birthday party, with _so many_ friends and their little baby boy. _No._ Nothing about what was happening around her felt familiar. Yet again, _why_ did it feel familiar?

_“Are you ready, Hest?”_

_“Yes, mommy!”_

_“Good! Daddy and your big brother will be home soon,”_

_Wait, what?_

Jocasta was pretty sure that _that_ was _her_ voice. It was _her_ voice and the voice of a little girl. A little girl who called her… _mommy?_ No. This was… _it can’t be._ It couldn’t be her and Hester. Jocasta was never there with Hester. She was never _there._ She had left Hester into the hands of that madman who had made her life a living hell. Those voices and that vision couldn’t have possibly been real.

“Mom?”

_“Mommy,” Black hair. A little girl in a green gown and long black hair picked back tightly with a bow._

“Mom?!”

Jocasta snapped out of it right away. She looked up and she saw that very same girl. Black hair tied back in a tight bow and a green dress that delicately complemented her body. _What it is?! What’s going on?!_

“Did you draw the footage?” Hester asked. Jocasta couldn’t say how many times she had made that same question, but she was sure she had made it a couple of times. She could pretty much tell from the slightly irritated tone in her voice and the look on her face.

Jocasta parted her lips to speak but it did take her a moment to process what she was supposed to say. “Of course,” she ended the footage before she handed the camera to Cid nearby. Hester’s hand found her mother’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She asked, worriedly.

Jocasta pursed her lips. “We need to talk,” she said before Hester nodded.

Jocasta slipped her gaze around her surroundings. Sephiroth and Reeve were talking. It was certainly something related with work. Vincent was feeding Laelynn whilst talking with Tifa, and Cloud with Cid and Shera were watching Barret, Denzel and Marlene playing and wrecking Shera’s living room with the little ones.

Jocasta led Hester to the kitchen. It was at the back and it was quieter. A couple of goods were served ready in dishes that Shera would bring forth to the living room later on. But for now, they had a little more privacy there.

“Mom, what is it?” Hester asked as she crossed her hands against her chest and she rested her hips back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m… remembering things. Memories I never knew I had…” Jocasta turned and looked at her “…and you’re in them,”

Hester chuckled and arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head somewhere?”

Jocasta sighed. “I’m being serious,” She shot her daughter a stern look.

Hester sat straight. “Right. So, what it is that you’re remembering?” She asked. 

Jocasta pursed her lips. She didn’t really know how to say this. “Did you ever have a brother?”

Hester shook her head. “No, I was an only child for as long as I can remember. But dad- Hojo” she corrected herself “used to tell me that Sephiroth was my brother and that we were related,” She chuckled bitterly. “It drove me crazy for a while. He’d kiss me and I always feared like this was wrong. Turned out, the old man was only messing with me,”

Jocasta sighed and looked at her daughter. She had her attention locked on the floor and she sighed heavily. She realised she had never really apologised. Jocasta always knew what Hojo was trying to do with his experiments on her. She always knew the possibilities of having a child of her own. One that would have to grow beneath Hojo’s parenting. Jocasta felt the guilt of letting Hester suffer through that _every single day._

“I never really apologised…” Jocasta said and at that Hester looked up at her mother with a confused look on her face. Jocasta’s hand found her daughter’s shoulder. “…I left you. I always knew what kind of path his experiments were leading us. I never came back for you. I was selfish and terrified. And I left you alone-”

“You didn’t-” Hester tried to say but she cut herself midsentence. She sighed and shook her head. _No._ She couldn’t tell her. “It’s alright, mom. It’s all gone now. Hojo’s gone. The JENOVA Wars are over. What we need to do now is look forward,”

Jocasta nodded. “I agree, but…” she sighed and turned her back at her daughter. Her hand found her forehead and she rubbed an insistent ache away. How can someone _go on_ and pretend nothing of this had happened? _How can someone forget hell?_ Both she and Vincent kept reminding each other that the memories that bothered them should be left behind and that they should move on. But the more time passed, the more impossible it got. “…it’s all still in my head and I just keep reliving… _everything._ Vincent does too. And it’s not just that, I got those new, foreign memories, and I need to know where they come from because they sure as hell aren’t mine. I would remember if I raised you, but I didn’t. I left you,”

Hester knew something. Jocasta didn’t know her daughter as much as she wanted to, but she could still tell that Hester knew something that she wasn’t telling her. Maybe Hester was indeed that girl that Jocasta kept seeing in those memories, but how in the world did she have those memories. She was never there when Hester was growing up. Jocasta had been wandering the wilderness of Gaia for far too long.

Hester just pursed her lips before she stood straight and looked at Jocasta. “I understand that it might be difficult for you. It’s difficult for all of us to _move on._ We’ve all been through a lot. Especially you and Vincent. But you have a daughter now. You have a future. Know that we fought so that Laelynn, Cid Junior, Marlene, Denzel, and Aerith, are going to have a future of peace,”

Jocasta chuckled. It always brought a smile to her face the fact that Tifa and Cloud had named their daughter after Aerith. The name of the girl that Jocasta had failed to save. Just like she had failed to become a suitable mother for Hester and Sephiroth. Just like she had failed to save Gast and Ifalna who have been both murdered and experimented on by Hojo. She had failed many things in her life. The weight of them felt so unbearable. How could she forget this all? Sometimes her screams were too loud inside her head and she could think of nothing but Hojo’s laughter and his experiments on her.

But she didn’t mind those memories. She had been having a demon inside her body for more than thirty years, and that demon made sure she remembered each and every second of that torture. She had almost gotten used to it, but it turned out it wasn’t just Omega messing with her memories. It was her own head as well. And _now_ with no demon, she still had memories that were coming back to her and these particular ones were _foreign._

Whatever Hester knew, she wasn’t going to speak and Jocasta could pretty much tell. Jocasta just gave her a smile and she nodded. “You’re right,”

“I thought I’d find ya two in ‘ere,” Cid’s voice came as he entered the kitchen and he grabbed two plates filled with more food. “Ya better go back to your husband, momma Joe. Laelynn’s been cryin’ an hour now,” Cid laughed and Jocasta cringed and hurried out of the kitchen. Hester set off to follow her but Cid stopped her. “Not you, kid,”

Hester turned and crossed her hands waiting for the cranky captain.

“What did she wanna talk about?” Cid raised an eyebrow.

“Mother-daughter stuff?”

“Better think twice about lying to a man twice your age, kid,” Cid said.

Hester scoffed. “I’m thirty-two and you’re like, what? Thirty-five?”

“You still got a twelve-year-old brain,”

Hester rolled her eyes. _Not again._

“You didn’t do anything that hurt her, did you?” Cid asked suspiciously.

Hester sighed. “Trust me, I do whatever in takes not to hurt her,” she patted his shoulder before she left the kitchen.

Cid frowned. _What’s that supposed to mean?!_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you guys think through your comments! Drop 'em Kudos if you liked it!


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